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<title>Crayon x Paper by snom_but_with_gun (tart_apeldpfs111)</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29195856">Crayon x Paper</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tart_apeldpfs111/pseuds/snom_but_with_gun'>snom_but_with_gun (tart_apeldpfs111)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Dark Crack, Death, Gore, Happy Ending, Inanimate Objects, Other, POV Inanimate Object, Permanent Injury, The Author Regrets Everything</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:15:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>942</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29195856</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tart_apeldpfs111/pseuds/snom_but_with_gun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I need help please send a therapist<br/>I'm not grammar/spellchecking this crackfic<br/>I'm also leaving everything gender-neutral and calling the objects it because they are literally objects.</p><p>Excerpt:<br/>Every single one was created with the same purpose in mind, they would be used and marked up against their own will. It was their only purpose. HP Printer Paper 8.5 x 11 No. 474 in package G832B would live a different life, no matter what. It was the only goal stuff inside the thin cut of processed tree.</p><p>Being the 474th piece of paper in the package, HP Printer Paper 8.5 x 11 No. 474 in G832B or HP474GB for short thought that it would take years, if not decades for 473 other pieces of paper to be defiled. HP474GB could have never been more wrong. It had taken meer months for 473 of HP474GB’s siblings to be ripped out and forced to endure whatever torture the humans saw fit.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Inanimate Object/Inanimate Object, Paper/Crayon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Crayon x Paper</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Why are you here? What are you even doing? You could be reading anything else, but instead, you read Crayon X Paper fanfic.</p><p>Anyways, if you are insane enough to actually read this I hope you enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Every single one was created with the same purpose in mind, they would be used and marked up against their own will. It was their only purpose. HP Printer Paper 8.5 x 11 No. 474 in package G832B would live a different life, no matter what. It was the only goal stuff inside the thin cut of processed tree.</p><p>Being the 474th piece of paper in the package, HP Printer Paper 8.5 x 11 No. 474 in G832B or HP474GB for short thought that it would take years, if not decades for 473 other pieces of paper to be defiled. HP474GB could have never been more wrong. It had taken meer months for 473 of HP474GB’s siblings to be ripped out and forced to endure whatever torture the humans saw fit.</p><p>Blinding light cut through the gentle darkness. The light had never felt so oppressive before, always blocked out by those on top of HP474GB.</p><p><em> Please, anything. </em> HP474GB begged. There was always the 1 in 100 chance that the wind would be strong enough to set a piece of paper free. That one could be dropped and live the rest of their life on the ground, free to pursue their dreams.</p><p>The wind wasn’t strong enough. Large wooden gates slowly creaked open. It was time. Footsteps pounded away at the ground. Rapid, ordinarily footsteps. Over the months sitting still HP474GB developed a name for these footsteps; demon steps. The sound of a child growing closer.</p><p>In the factory, everyone always joked about the ruthlessness of the children. Some sheets of paper whispered about how once a child touched you - it was already too late to be saved. Jokes like this were often to the dismay of the construction paper.</p><p>If only this household had construction paper.</p><p>
  <em> Thump. </em>
</p><p>It was a feeling that was so familiar, yet so new. Every thump meant another sheet gone, HP474GB thought that the feeling and the sound didn’t mean anything anymore. Not after hearing it so many times. However, actually feeling the impact against HP474GB exposed self invoked a new feeling- fear.</p><p>All HP474GB’s life, the paper convinced itself that it would somehow have a different fate- it would be the 1%, have the lucky break and freedom would be in its grasp. The moment the heavy hand smacked against HP474GB’s exposed skin all hope shattered.</p><p>This was fate, what HP474GB  was made for. Hope was useless, no matter how much HP474GB hoped, it wouldn’t change anything.</p><p>The sweaty palm in the middle of HP474GB closed in one swift motion. It felt like an eternity of pain.</p><p>The outside of HP474GB’s body folded in on itself, crumpling, smashing and twisting at angles its body was never made to handle. In a single second, almost a hundred folds ripped into its body. Each fold in its delicate skin exploded with pain.</p><p>HP474GB’s screams never reached its tormentor.</p><p>In another second, HP474GB was lifted into the air. The air around HP474GB rushed and burned at its sides. HP474GB was hurled around the house, every new room, object or door was just a blur of lights.</p><p>With another whack the world, refocused itself.</p><p>HP474GB felt a dread claw away at its body. Surrounding HP474GB were the shredded corpses of his siblings. On the ground next to HP474GB was a red Crayola crayon, its tip completely gone through repetitive abuse.</p><p>“Please.. no more.” The crayon whimpered.</p><p>The powerful hand had no mercy. Its fist clenched around the crayon like a vice and raised the poor thing into the sky above HP474GB.</p><p>“No!” Screamed HP474GB.</p><p>It was too late</p><p>The crayon was brought down on HP474GB body. A wound ripped through HP474GB’s body. Wax was forcefully injected into its smooth body, and was absorbed against the screaming in HP474GB mind. With every swipe the red insides of the crayon bled into HP474GB’s body and with every swipe was another wave of burrowing pain.</p><p>It felt like hours, but it was probably only a few seconds. The demon lifted HP474GB into the sky and examined HP474GB’s sullied body. The vice grip at either side of HP474GB tightened. It would end up a mutilated corpse, like the rest of the siblings.</p><p>Why did life have to be so painful?</p><p>But it wasn’t the end. HP474GB didn’t know whether to be glad to live another day, or angry the suffering would prolong. The demon’s grip softened and HP474GB floated to the ground wishing only that it never should have been created in the first place.</p><p>The red crayon sobbed at HP474GB’s side. HP474GB was never a passionate person, but the words left its mouth automatically.</p><p>“It's going to be ok.”</p><p>“What do you know?” The crayon demanded between sobs. “Every time I’m used my soul is spilled out, and it's only a matter of time before it will be all over.”</p><p>“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” Tears dampened the corners of HP474GB’s page. “I always wanted to be free, and I- I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore.”</p><p>“I once dreamed of being free, in the factory I was made in, they would always talk about a colored pencil who became free.” The crayon paused, choking on it’s own tears. “I gave up once I realized it was impossible, and when I tried, I couldn’t escape.”</p><p>Hope.</p><p>“Maybe if you try again, but this time with me we can get it to work?”</p><p>It was a ridiculous suggestion, but HP474GB was determined, no matter how unlikely it was to happen. If HP474GB couldn’t hope and dream of the 1% chance, then what was the point of being alive?</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am confusion.</p><p>How did you even read through all of that. Leave a comment or something I don't even know anymore I'm questioning everything.</p><p>I'm not continuing this because I'll probably go insane if I do that.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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